gratitude and crepes
by ameriboo
Summary: "I had never known a closeness like that before." —Ash & Serena, past!Ash & Misty; AU


**warnings: i don't own pokemon**

 **notes: this was written like a long ass time ago and i dug it up and wanted to publish it because i love angsty things even though i'm not very proud of the writing. it takes place in an alternate universe.**

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" _ **I had never known a closeness like that before."**_

Ash took me out Sunday morning for breakfast with the promise of inviting me into his past. He held a withered photo album plastered in stickers and stains in one hand, my hand in the other.

Out of all two hundred and six bones in Ash Ketchum's body, not one bone is exceptionally romantic. What a hundred boys say through poems and songs, Ash will say with an impromptu weekend getaway or a wet willy. Which is why when I asked him to tell me about his life before we met, he smiled and insisted he would share.

"My past is important to me, Serena," he told me, his hand on his heart. "Like how you're important to me."

We order our orange juice and crepes, and he started flipping through pages with nostalgic eyes. The crinkle of the skin around his eyes and the way his smile formed. All I could do was admire him, wishing that I knew him when we were children.

It started with his childhood, then his pre-teen years, and finally his late teens. Dozens of pictures of a young dark-haired boy, his smile taking up all his face, were put before me. Ash catching his first fish, Ash sitting on his mother's lap in her spring garden, a baby Ash playing alongside some rabbits, Ash mooning his old math teacher, Ash at multiple picnics and barbeques, Ash and his brother by blood oath Brock on a self-proclaimed 'Man's Roadtrip' to the west coast, and so many more memories.

I noticed, in most of them, a tall girl was present.

And I point to the girl with short ginger hair and peachy skin. In the photograph, she is sandwiched between a teenage Ash and Brock. Each of them beaming into the camera with matching peace signs. They seem to be on a camping trip, near a lake or river. Surrounded by vibrant blue waters, Ash with a bad tan-line and the girl covered in sunscreen.

"So," I say, "is this who I think it is?"

 _Deliah was right_. I think to myself. _She was beautiful._

Ash takes a sip of his orange juice and leans over to see but he knew who I meant. By the way, his hands clenched around the glass, the way his deep eyes glossed over, the way he gave the picture a bittersweet smile; I knew this girl was more than some random 'she' from across the street.

"It is. That's Misty," he tells me, "Misty Williams."

I wait for him to continue. Comfortable silence between us.

"She is...was my first love."

I've always found it difficult to be bold. I was the girl who kept it as kind and calm as sleepy-time tea before bed on a fall night. It has never been my intention to intrude on anyone's personal bubble, but my curiosity got the best of me. I loved this boy. It only made sense to want to know his past, present, and future.

I breathe in deeply, hoping for the best, and I ask: "Ash, can you finally tell me about her?"

My focus keeps dashing between him and my lap, avoiding his deep brown eyes that enlighten every sense in my body all at once. But my question still stands.

He raises a brow. "That's a pretty heavy question, Serena. But..."

"But?"

"But no one's really asked about her like that before," Ash says, scratching at his five o' clock shadow. "It's been a long time since I even looked at this book. You know I'm not good at stories either."

I reach for his hand, placing it in mine. "Ash, please."

Ash turned to one of the first pages, on it was a picture of him outside his childhood home carrying a skateboard that seemed longer than him. Pointing at the skateboard, he began: "The day after my tenth birthday, I took my new skateboard out for the first time. Down the road from my house, I bumped into this girl that had cuts and bruises all over her twiggy legs. Well, obviously, I made a stupid joke about em' and she started pounding her fists into my stomach and we broke out into a fight. For a scrappy thing, she punched like a grown ass man."

We shared a short laugh before he continued.

"For what felt like hours, we exchanged punches and curse words and didn't stop. I remember her hitting harder and smelling nicer than any boy I ever met. When I was ready to call it quits, this crazy girl ran after me all the way home. I came home with tears in my eyes and face covered in scratches, my mom wasn't happy at all, so she demanded the exact story. Little macho me didn't want to explain how he had his ass handed to him by a scrawny tomboy, so I went to bed covered in bandages. When I woke up, bruised ego and all, my mom called me down because I had a visitor. It was her and her older sister and brother-in-law, I remember I thought she looked so angry glaring at her beat-up red converses. Her sister was forcing her to apologize to me for practically chewing me up and spitting me out, which she totally did. What was weird was that even though she gave me a small, bitter sorry who she actually apologized to was my mother. She looked my mother in the eye, told her name, and gave her a sympathetic sorry. My mother, the town softie, accepted it with a hug but threatened that if either of us got into a big fight again there would be consequences. Basically, that morning the Ketchum's were introduced to Misty Williams. God, it took me forever after that to be her friend. She was so unbearable, she came into my life just to drive me crazy, I swear. Every time I went fishing, she would invite herself. A morning helping my mom out with the garden, Misty would be there with sunscreen on her face. It was so annoying, but my mom thought she was amazing from her carrot top to her blue painted toes."

My eyes trailed to a photo of Ash, Misty and Delia Ketchum outside of the Ketchum family home. The photo was covered in flower stickers and bent at the edges.

"Eventually, seeing her every day wasn't out of the ordinary. She grew nicely to the town and was fun to be around. I mean, the girl had a Suicune on her pokémon silver game, so she was kind of a big deal. And Before I knew we even realized what had happened, we became best friends. Over the years, we did everything together. From fishing to after school hikes to sneaking into school at night and thinking we were cool as shit for doing so. She was the one to come to my defense when Gary decided I was too much of a lame ass to hang out with anymore. Misty gave him a black eye that lasted for two weeks and I swear it was the bravest thing eleven-year-old me had ever seen. We finished elementary then started middle school together. Together, we met Brock and basically took over the world. Then we hit high school. I can't believe all the chaos we caused that little town and everyone in it." He hits his chest with his fist, proudly, as if we a knight that was reminiscing about the first dragon he ever conquered.

I think to myself, _I would've watched you. If I had known you, I would've been by your side, too._

Ash takes out a withered picture of him and Misty dancing from one of the plastic slips and shows it to me. He quickly turns the photo over, on the back the date is written in girlish chicken scratch. Ash must've been around nineteen or twenty.

His fingers caress the photograph, it looked so tiny in his hand.

A line from my conversation with Brock echoed through my mind: _She was twenty at the time of the accident._

Ash takes a shallow breath and carries on.

"She-she was with me through so much of my life, I forgot to thank her. Misty was there when I had no other friend, practically gluing herself onto me and picking me up like she knew we were meant to meet and be friends. We traveled the world together; did you know that? Misty was the one that bought us our first train tickets out of town for my birthday. I packed our bags and so many jars of peanut butter and jelly behind my mom's back, just so we can visit this lake that was said to be home to a sea monster. It was so wild, I don't think I have ever laughed and cried so much in one night sitting in a train cart for twelve hours. When we got to the lake and saw the moon so close it could almost touch us then—then she kissed me. I was so shocked we feel into the water right off the dock. That summer, I can still feel it in me sometimes, ya know? If I close my eyes once in a while, I'm at that lake and I can taste peanut and hear her laugh at me. And then it makes sense to me—even though I didn't call it that at the time or say it—what happened between us. That was love. For ten years, that girl changed me and loved me unconditionally. I didn't always know how to say it and I didn't always say thank you, but I loved her. I really, really loved her."

I almost shed a tear.

"I had never known a closeness like that before."

We're still for a moment, hand in hand. "Do you miss her?"

His eyes downcast and brimming with tears. "I miss her almost every day. It isn't always a strong feeling or sadness—sometimes it is just remembering that there is no more fishing or train rides or lakes. But then sometimes it feels like my heart cutting itself up into pieces."

Ash smiles through the tears. "Then I remember how she almost gave me a concussion and how I almost gave her a brain aneurysm," he laughs shakily. "It makes me miss her a little less."

I muster up my strongest smile.

"Do...do you still love her?"

He pauses, brushing away his tears with the sleeve of his shirt.

To see Ash so open made my heart swell, his eyes like searchlights looking at me with longing and clarity. If we weren't out in the public, I would have come undone right in front of him. Tears and shaking and a tight grip around him so he can know he wasn't alone.

"No matter how many years past or how many things change, she'll always be a part of me," he admits, fingers on top of Misty's smile in the photo. "And part of me will always love her, but I think the boy who loved her is not me anymore if that makes any sense."

The words are difficult to find but I try to "It does make sense. I understand what you mean."

"Yeah," he sighs, running his hands through his hair. "You always do."

I smile sheepishly. "Why don't you finish up, so we can get out of here, maybe go for a walk? We can talk about some more stories if that's okay."

"Wanna hear about the time sophomore year Misty and I had to convince Brock not to marry some girl because she said she was having his baby?"

"It wasn't his?"

He chuckles at the suggestion. "It couldn't have been him, Brock didn't even feel a girl's chest until junior year."

"Oh…. dear."

He smiles softly, taking a final bite of his crepes while finishing off whatever remained on my plate. I place my hand on his photo album, sending my thanks to his loved ones and Misty for being there for him throughout his life.

"Ash?"

He looks up, our eyes meeting.

"Thank you…for sharing with me."

Something within me swells at his sincerity. At how bright his smile his, despite the tears and heartache, he continues to be bright.

"Thank you for listening."

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 **notes: yeah. don't hate me**


End file.
